


Through Halls of Blood and Night: Origins

by Nightglade (Judy_The_Dreamer)



Series: Through Halls of Blood and Night [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alistair is a capable king, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, the prolific dragon age bloodstains, yet that does not make him less goofy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judy_The_Dreamer/pseuds/Nightglade
Summary: A collection of drabbles and flash fiction that belong in my Dragon Age: Origins (and expansions) AU. They're mostly character practice. Spoilers for my greater storyline and the games possible.*For more information on the characters, see the primer at the top of the series.**These are not posted in any chronological order, but a reading list will be made available soon!**These are mostly written for character practice, so there's a lot of space to fill up the blanks.*





	1. Queen of His Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> To kick this off here's a piece that's been floating around my computer for the last couple of weeks. It's an extra for those of you who had to wait so long for the last piece of Cerwynn's origin story.

If asked what transpired during his very first meeting with the Warden Commander, the king would always remark upon his own blundering introduction first. _An unfortunate trait for a monarch_ , his uncle had said, _your enemies need not even dig you grave, ‘cause you’ll wind up doing it yourself_.

Alistair, however, had soon cultivated the habit of brushing these comments aside with casual banter, hoping his witticisms might distract whatever listening party from the actual origin of his uncle’s accusations, and the secretive smile he always gave in answer.

Bluntly stated, Alistair would gladly blunder his way through every state occasion if he’d only catch a glimpse of pale hair and solemn eyes at the end of the day, and this attitude caused Teagan no end of grief.

Yet Alistair couldn’t help it, those two things were the first he’d ever noticed about his dearest, and she was never far from his thoughts these days.


	2. Ostagar I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ostagar Part I (of IV).
> 
> Featuring Cerwynn Mahariel (Dalish - Rogue).

Hours after she and Duncan had strolled into the camp at Ostagar – dusty and tired, but so glad this part of the journey was over – Cerwynn was still attempting to wash the muck and Darkspawn blood out of her pants. She’d made an effort to warm the tepid water of the nearby river Alistair had pointed her to and had scrubbed at the stains until her hands were raw.

Duncan had offered to contact the quartermaster for a new pair of leggings if she’d liked, but remarked the battle might ruin those just as well, so she’d resigned herself to the water bucket and soap.

Frankly, Cerwynn was glad he hadn’t pushed the issue, because she found – after rigorously removing the worst of the stains from the cloth – the practice strangely therapeutic. As if she could beat the Darkspawn back just as easily as their stained blood.

The short excursion into the Wilds had done nothing to assuage the nauseating sensation she got at the sight of their horrible desiccated faces and talon-like fingers. If she’d understood correctly, her barely-senior Warden had inferred that it never truly would disappear. Maybe it was for the best. A reminder of being an elf in the face of ancient evil.

Satisfied at her own growing confidence, Cerwynn dug back in and conquered many stains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These four drabbles have to some extent all been inspired by the song King of Man by Jay Smith. Give it a listen!


	3. Ostagar II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ostagar Part II of ?.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Cerwynn Mahariel (Dalish Rogue) and Daerion Cousland (Human Noble Warrior).

_King of man tell me you secrets,_

_shout it loud so I know it's you._

_Wake the past and have my future,_

_I wanna see if what I saw was true._

_**'King of Man' by Jay Smith** _

_***** _

When humans had the gall to call the Dalish uncivilized children-eaters, Cerwynn wondered if they’d ever taken a close look at their own traditions. Because they did not see the savagery therein, they were well and truly blind in her eyes. Even more so now, since a prime example was terrifying half of the camp servants away.

As far as Cerwynn had heard – or Alistair for that matter, since he turned out to be quite the talented gossip – no one had any idea of who the warrior was. He’d entered the camp shortly after the Wardens, straight-backed although he was burdened with a heavy two-handed broadsword, and proceeded into trying to coerce the guards into letting him enter the Wilds. Duncan had put a stop to that real quick and since then the mysterious newcomer had been trying to glare holes into anyone wandering close.

For a wild man, Cerwynn thought idly, as she watched the stranger seated by the Mabari pens, he’s come dressed in might fine clothes. Alistair had told her as much, pointing out the fine make of the armor. He’d wanted to get his hands on the broadsword, convinced there would be a blacksmith’s which could possibly answer some questions.

‘It could give us an idea about which family commissioned it. If he isn’t part of them, well,’ Alistair had paused to smile wryly. ‘Then at least we’d know which poor sod – or corpse – he’s plucked them from.’

And so they’d settled down together, watching the stranger from afar, waiting for him to succumb to the darkness of exhaustion.


	4. Ostagar III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third part of the Ostagar drabbles and the longest post so far. Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> Featuring Cerwynn Mahariel (Dalish Rogue) & Daerion Cousland (Human Noble warrior).

_King of man now I'll show you my secrets._

_Come real close so you can see that it's me,_

_hear my voice and forget the future,_

_and I will show you a way to be free._

_'King of Man' by Jay Smith_

 If there was pride to be had in the quick-fingered skill of thievery, then Cerwynn Mahariel was feeling it all the way to her bones. She send a quiet prayer of forgiveness towards the creators and rooted along the ground for her quarry. In the dark her hands finally closed around the stranger’s broadsword. The hilt alone felt massive in her elven hands and for a moment she despaired she wouldn’t be able to lift it.

Perhaps Alistair should have come along, she thought, but then again, his heavy frame would mean destroying any notion of stealth. Better to be discovered alone than crowd the stranger when he’d inevitably wake up.

Not that he would for a great long while, if Cerwynn had her way. Let it not be said the Dalish were anything but skilled in whatever endeavor they undertook.

Sadly, this did not seem to be a night in which the universe agreed with her assessment of her own skills. With a loud snort the stranger woke up beside her, and Cerwynn only just had the good sense of quickly backing away before a furious flurry of flailing limbs came into contact with her.

Things happened very fast after that. Cerwynn shrieked in surprise as a strong arm nearly knocked her back, the stranger howled indignantly at having missed in such close quarters and Alistair came charging up with a battle cry, firmly posting himself between the startled elf and the murderous human. Already more a shield-brother in action than he was in thought.

This unexpected status quo luckily seemed to stun the stranger out of most of his anger, arms coming to rest on his sword rather than reaching out to grab Cerwynn’s smaller frame. And Creators, she hadn’t realized up until this point how tiny she was compared to him. Even Alistair must have noticed the considerable height the stranger had one him, by the way he shored up his stance.

In the half-dark of the campfires, the stranger looked like a tall shadow, but Carwynn’s eyes were sharp enough to perceive some traits of notice. The warrior’s brown hair was long, partially braided in the style of Fereldan nobility, held together with clasps of something that appeared to be similar to marble caught the light of the fire.

Check one for expensive possessions, Cerwynn noted. Could be a noble after all.

‘Who are you?’ The warrior’s voice was rough, either through anger or disuse she could not tell.

‘We are many things: Grey Wardens for one.’ Alistair replied tersely. ‘Curious about what the wind blew in for another.’

 _Oh Creators, don’t sass him…_ Cerwynn chose to impart her thoughts with a warning jab to his ribs and a quick hiss. ‘Alistair!’

The stranger’s gaze flicked to her for a moment, and she noticed for the first time his eyes were in reality not just darkened by the shadows, but a natural dark brown. ‘Both of you, truly?’ He scoffed and jutted his chin at her. ‘I don’t see her carrying a weapon, Warden.’

Cerwynn felt the indignation burn at her tongue and replied before she could think any better of it. ‘Bows are not always conducive towards stealth, Shemlen, but if you want some proof I would gladly hunt you for a bit.’

For a moment her threat hung heavy in the air and both men grew possibly even more tense, but then the stranger shook. First lightly, only his shoulders, but soon his entire frame was swaying in the wind. With a great, hearty burst of sound the warrior threw his head back and laughed. ‘Fair enough, elf!’

Alistair finally lowered his shield and grinned at her disbelievingly. ‘You know what? Maybe that charm of yours doesn’t need that much work after all.’

Out of spite, she went for his ribs again.


	5. Ostagar IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of Ostagar.
> 
> Featuring Cerwynn Mahariel and Daerion Cousland.

_I said sing for this moment,_

_cause all we need is right here and now._

_And don't wait for tomorrow,_

_cause I will always bring a smile to your face._

_So sing, just sing with me (until I'm done)._

**_'King of Man' by Jay Smith_ **

The warrior’s broadsword gleamed under the bright light of the campfire. Cerwynn and Alistair had managed to turn the desolate spot close to the Mabari pens their new acquaintance had chosen into a halfway decent camp before settling in to study his effects.

Alistair’s fingertips coasted the edges of the blacksmith’s mark on the blade. ‘Cousland, huh? So the rumours _are_ true…’

Daerion’s expression grew hard and somber at the memory of his family and home. ‘Yes. After fleeing the castle my only real option was to come here to track down my brother.’

‘Fergus.’ Alistair acknowledged. ‘His scouting party seems to have gone off route some time ago. The senior army staff might have an idea of where they’re at, but the Wardens are unfortunately in the dark.’

Cerwynn grunted in agreement as she took her turn with the blade. ‘Ironical don’t you think, when we’re the only ones officially allowed outside the gate.’

Darion sighed, clearly beyond frustrated with it all. ‘This all just seems too much of a mess to be true.’

So caught up in the familiar sadness of loss she could see in the warrior’s eyes, Cerwynn Mahariel made perhaps one of the most impulsive and best decisions of her life. She rose to her feet, the blade abandoned at her feet, and strode over to sling her arm around his broad shoulders. ‘Well, if this turns out to be a nightmare, shem. At least we’ll all be in it together.’

Alistair laughed and scooted over, so that they bracketed the tired warrior in from both sides. Their shared warmth eventually coaxing him back to restfulness.


	6. Ostagar V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Cerwynn Mahariel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last of the Ostagar drabbles for now...

Waking up with the bitter taste of Darkspawn blood, her frame wracking in shivers, Cerwynn gratefully breathed in the night air and promptly felt like throwing up. A kind hand held back her disheveled hair as she heaved.

 _Alistair_ , Cerwynn registered dimly, and then: _Oh thank the Creators, I’m alive!_

In relief she collapsed against his sturdier frame, breathing gradually becoming easier now the initial revulsion waned. Alistair – her fellow Warden now – awkwardly patted her arms, she could almost feel his flushed skin through their combined armour.

_Silly human to not realize he’d gained her trust by now._

Almost silently, Duncan also came to perch by her side, his eyes still as concern-filled as ever. ‘It is done.’

Cerwynn did not smile at him, respecting the gravity of the change in her position. ‘So it is.’

Duncan motioned at Alistair to help her up, and the warrior obliged by nearly lifting her entire weight instead of just tugging her to her feet. ‘Then rise Grey Warden Cerwynn Mahariel and join us in our duty.’

She still felt unsteady on her feet, but he dutifully kept her upright as she answered. ‘In life and death.’

Alistair’s hands went to her shoulders, putting a chain around her neck. When she looked down she could see the dark blood swirling inside the attached pendant.

‘A reminder to all of us,’ he sighed and Cerwynn, for the first time, could see their shared pain reflected in his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last post of the summer for now. I’ve got exams coming up (and a new major to decide upon), so I’ll be occupied until early September. No worries though, I’m kind of working on a longer, more narrative driven version of my Inquisition posts. So I won’t be sitting still.

Alistair swore he’d felt it, something unsettling deep in his bones, the first time he witnessed Cerwynn Mahariel come face to face with failure. More even, he could recall the dank odour of that laboratory and the still alluring form (even in death) of the Desire Demon, the oppressing nature of that place meanwhile enclosing on them with dread. And most of all Cer’s pained face, eyes misted over as she looked upon the innocent life they’d destroyed.

Honnleath had most certainly become a ghost place at that point, if it hadn’t been a shell of its former self before.

That night they’d clung to each other in the privacy of their tent, her silent tears were soaking into his shoulder, and he, for once, completely at a loss for what to say.


End file.
